


The Monster Within

by Nehasy



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Child Death, Child Torture, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Mental Instability, Pre-Series, Psychological Torture, Psychotic Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehasy/pseuds/Nehasy
Summary: While still at the Madoushi labs, young Dilandau sneaks out of his cell to go exploring and finds something he should never have seen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In answer to the horror prompt “You saw something you weren’t supposed to see. And now… now you know what has to be done.” and “How can you not see it…? I’m dead! I’ve been dead for years!”
> 
> This is from my Dragon in the Ashes Series and it falls under the catagory of "Things Dilandau doesn't remember" its Pre-TV series and features a very young Dilandau and the Madoushi. Torture, death, human experimentation, child abuse, implied sexual abuse and mental torture are all contained within. There's a reason he is the way he is. 
> 
> I don’t own Vision of Escaflowne or the characters, not making money. Enjoy

 

 

              The silver haired boy slunk down the darkened hallway, doing his best to stick to the shadows even though his hair shone like a beacon, practically glowing in the dim light.  He would have covered it if he could, but his Masters only provided him with the thin shirt and pants which barely even kept out the cool air of the facility.  Bare feet trod soundlessly across the metal floors as his brilliant crimson eyes warily searched for hidden sensors which would warn security that one of the Masters subjects had slipped out of their cell.

                He didn’t know why the door hadn’t locked properly after his Master had left.  All he’d known was that he hadn’t heard the telltale click which had always accompanied the soft hiss of the closing.  Memories of hundreds of vicious punishments for even the slightest infractions or signs of disobedience flickered through his mind, each one warning him to stay put and behave.  Any other child would have heeded these brutal reminders, but the albino had perked up instantly.  His lithe young body had hopped off the bed, oblivious to the many aches and pains the movement reawakened.  Pain was an old friend; it was one of the three confirmations of his existence.  The other two were the thrill of fighting and the mixture of dread and desire when his Master came for him.

                There were several doors in this hallway, eerily familiar in the fact that they were exact duplicates of his; flat cold slabs of grey metal with a tiny window up near the top.  There was a sliding shutter on each of them.  Several were closed, others stood open and the boy could imagine other children like him, huddled in the darkness.  How many sat there staring up at that window obsessively, wondering how long it would be before someone opened the door again and made them real. 

                Numbers marked each door in seemingly random order.  His own bore the stark brand of 0035.  It wasn’t a name, only people had names and his Master was fond of telling him that he wasn’t a person until he proved himself.  It was so hard sometimes, the endless tests against the other subjects, the agonizing hours in the lab but worst of all, the eternities where he’d be locked in his room all alone, waiting for someone to come in and talk to him, touch him, anything to make him real.

                Shaking his head, the boy grinned in rebellious delight and continued down the hallway eager to explore.  He’d been through these hallways hundreds of times, but never on his own.  He’d always been accompanied by his Master or one of the other cloaked men.  None of them ever spoke to him or acknowledged him during these trips and he was forced to walk with his eyes firmly fixed forward and moving at a steady pace despite his injuries or terror.  Now however, he could look around, notice the thousands of tiny details he’d never been able to pay attention to previously.

                It was fascinating, seeing the way the scones high up in the hallways burned with a lovely cold blue flame, or how the shadows seemed to flicker in the darkened corners of the hallway, almost as if they were alive.

                It didn’t occur to him to try to free any of the other children trapped behind the doors.  The very concept of freedom was foreign to him and he had no intention of actually leaving the brutal facility where he had spent all of his known life.  He simply wanted to look around, letting his starved mind drink in the sensory input and perhaps give him memories related to something that wasn’t torture and abuse.

                Up ahead were the labs and he felt a shiver of dread travel through his small body at the thought of entering such a terrible area.  He almost contemplated turning back and exploring elsewhere, but then he heard it, the soft murmur of human voices.  His entire body ached at the sound and a soft whimper of need escaped his lips at the thought of any sort of interaction.  After so long trapped in the isolation of that cell, even the threat of torture did little to dissuade him from heeding that sirens call.

                Still, he wasn’t one to wholly abandon caution.  Pressing himself tightly against the walls, he slunk forward soundlessly, senses strained for any warning of impending discovery.  It was foolishly risky and he knew it.  His mind had been trained to analyze tactical advantages instantly in any given situation and this empty hallway was devoid of any sort of cover.  If anyone so much as walked out that door, he’d be discovered.  Still, it was worth the risk to hear those voices, to possibly see a person… a real person and not the hallucinations that had kept him company for most of his life.

                Before he knew it, he’d reached the two large lab doors and pressed an ear against them, trying to pinpoint where the cloaked men were, knowing that they’d notice the instant the door was opened.

                “-responding well to treatments though I don’t like their TC levels, there’s an instability.”

                “Inject the tricodium, 20 ccs should do it.”

                “The risk is high of creating a cascading instability, there’s too much fluctuation.”

                “If it fails, we’ll simply discover the source of the problem post mortem and use Subject 23 to test our new theories.  Their symptoms are similar.”

                “Shroden is concerned with how many of the subjects you’ve lost this month pursuing these theories.  If we lose Subject 21he won’t be pleased.”

                “You are too timid Mishka.  True breakthroughs only happen when one is willing to take risks!  Now hand me that syringe!”  There was a long pause and the sound of metal clattering against metal.  Something fell on the floor with a crash followed by some rather unprofessional swearing.  “Now look at what you did!  This is going to put us an hour behind!  Come on, we need to get some more Compound 327, this batch is now contaminated.”

                “But the subject?”

                “It’s not going anywhere.  Hurry it up, I still want to work on Subject 35 before dinner.”  The boy shuddered as he heard his own designation mentioned.  His empty stomach churned with dread at the thought of what was to come, but he was familiar enough with the constant tortures to still see it as utterly unavoidable. 

                At the sound of far doors opening then closing, he listened for another moment to determine that the room was indeed empty before quickly tapping the code on the panel above his head.  A wide grin split his face nearly in two as he took pride in his memory of the password he’d glimpsed his Master tapping in and how the door obediently opened for him.

                Inside the lab was a nightmare come to life as the boy stared at cold metal machines, a veritable jungle of wires and several large cylinders filled with a shining red liquid.  Against the wall were several glowing blue cylinders and monitors blinked with an assortment of coloured lights, each one displaying mysterious information he could only guess at.

                In the center of the room lay a metal table surrounded by stands bearing a plethora of vicious looking tools and surgical equipment.  Above it hung blindingly bright lamps, several bladed instruments suspended on movable mechanical arms and long hollow tubes tipped with wicked points, ready to plunge into tender veins mercilessly.

                One such tube was already deeply embedded in the throat of the young boy strapped down on the table, bound hand and foot unable to struggle.  Not that he had the energy to do so.  Instead, the boy lay there twitching every once and a while as that unnatural blue liquid was pumped into him and the silver haired child shuddered in memory of how horribly that liquid burned.  It traced along the veins, ruthlessly setting every nerve on fire as it burned you from the inside out.  Screaming didn’t do anything to dull the pain and the last time they’d subjected him to that treatment, he’d nearly bitten through his own tongue.  His Master hadn’t been amused at all and he’d spent five days in total isolation for his punishment, living on only water and the gruel they slipped through the panel on the bottom of the door.

                Curious, he crept closer, wondering if the boy on the table was awake, wondering if they both suffered the same way.  Maybe if Subject 21 wasn’t in too much pain, they could talk for a moment.  He was rarely allowed to talk to the other subjects, even when they trained.  Only his Master was supposed to hear his voice and even then, he required permission to speak.  Of course, the silver haired boy was bad and often spoke to the strange visions and hallucinations which kept him company in his cell.  Sometimes they even spoke back.

                He was in luck, Subject 21 was still conscious when he climbed up on top of the table to look into his bleary eyes which were so blue they looked almost purple.  The other boy had deep black hair and skin almost as pale as his own.  It was very pretty to look at, and without intending to, he reached out and gently stroked the long silken locks of hair, letting them trail through his fingers, admiring the contrast.  Still, he much preferred his own silver hair.  Master loved to touch it and always told him how beautiful it was.  Anything that made Master happy had to be good, because when Master was happy, the Emperor was happy, and the Emperor was the most important person in the world!

                “Hi!”  He said, smiling down at the other boy.  “I can’t stay long.  Are you able to talk?”  Speech likely wouldn’t be comfortable with that tube in his neck, or the larger one that pierced the dark haired child’s belly through his navel.  “I’m Subject 35, they’re going to work on me next but my door didn’t lock.”  He explained sagely, vaguely remembering the boy from some of their training classes.  Despite the lower value number, he was rather sure that the boy was actually a new addition to the project.  There was always a sort of terror in his eyes, unlike the others who were far more accepting of their lot in life.  Fear was never a good sign for a Subject, any strong emotion other than bloodlust was considered a weakness.  Maybe that’s why they had him down on the table. 

                “Don’t be afraid.”  He murmured, idly picking up one of the knives from the table and playing with it, admiring the fine edge of the blade and how it reflected the bright glow of the blue cylinders.  “That’s probably why they’re working on you, to help you get rid of your weakness.  They’ll make you strong, you’ll see.”  He grinned confidently at the bound boy, tossing the knife up into the air and then catching it easily without looking.  “One day we’ll all be perfect and the Emperor will be so proud of us!  All of Zaibach will love us.” 

                The silver haired boy had no idea what exactly Zaibach was, but he knew it was important, almost as important as the Emperor. 

                “They’ll love us, or we’ll make them love us.”  For a moment, his grin became something vicious and his crimson eyes glittered dangerously.  Glancing down at the bound boy, he leaned forward and gently held the knife just above his eyes.

                “I like your eyes.  They’re really pretty.”  He stated, his voice sounding utterly innocent despite the threatening posture.  “If you die, can I have one?”  Master likely wouldn’t let him keep it, but it would make the time he spent alone in the cell a little easier to bear if he had something pretty to look at.  “It’s not like you’ll need it when you die.  You shouldn’t be so selfish.”  Silver brows turned down in a frown as the other boy didn’t respond to his question.  Maybe he should just take the eye and run?  The cloaked men wouldn’t know it was him if he got back to his room fast enough. 

                “D….don’t.”  The boy’s voice was weak from disuse.  Clearly he didn’t talk to his hallucinations enough.  Still, the silver boy frowned, not seeing why the other child couldn’t share.  He had two eyes after all, and having one of them would bring him so much comfort.

                “Don’t?  Well maybe I’ll take it anyway.”  Subject 35 grinned, tapping his own cheek thoughtfully with the flat of the blade.  “It’s not like you can really stop me.”  The dark haired boy shook his head slightly, his entire body trembling now as a fine sheen of sweat began to glaze his pale skin.

                “Don’t you see?”  The words were softly spoken and rough sounding, but still intelligible.  Curious, the silver haired boy shifted closer.

                “See what?”  The knife was temporarily forgotten.  As he leaned forward, the bound child giggled harshly, the sound was twisted with madness, his lips pulling back in a rictus grin.

                “How can you not see it…?  I’m dead!  I’ve been dead for years!”  His voice dissolved into crazed cackles as the other boy frowned.  He’d seen a lot of dead bodies in his short life, and he was pretty sure that they didn’t talk or laugh.  Still, he did have an open mind and figured that maybe this was some new experiment of the cloaked men… or Subject 21 was crazy.  He’d seen a lot of that as well.

                “Since you’re dead, can I have your eye then?”  The reasoning seemed sound as far as he was concerned, and he leaned forward again, ready to take the eye and run before the men came back.  The knife was poised just above the beautiful blue iris when the bound boy let out a strangled scream.  His small body bucked viciously against his restraints, nearly tearing them free of the metal table as he twisted sharply to the side. 

                Unsure of what was happening, the silver haired boy scrambled backwards, clutching the knife tightly in his small hand, his eyes growing wide with horror as he watched something shift beneath the pale skin of the other boy.  It rippled and moved like a living thing, pressing against the layers of flesh, trying to burst free.  Several wet snapping sounds filled the room, followed by the tearing of muscles finally giving way beneath the strain.

                Subject 21 shrieked again, the sound was utterly primal and cut straight through the desensitized mind of the silver haired boy who could only stare in utter horror as what looked like a child’s hand pressed up against the abdominal wall of the other boy.  There was a kid inside of him!?

                Shocked, crimson eyes glanced over at the knife in his hand for a moment, debating on cutting the flesh and freeing the child within, but instead, he backed away, nearly falling off of the edge of the table.  Instead of running, he found himself watching, unable to turn away as dark bruises blossomed on the boy’s chest and how the blue liquid being pumped inside him seemed to brighten.  It spread through his veins, creating a map of his circulatory system in glowing detail.

                Still shrieking in his utter agony, blood began to trickle out of the boys nose, ears and the edges of his eyes as another terrible ripping sound came from deep within his body.  Again, something moved inside him and he twisted so violently that his left arm broke.  Too consumed by the pain to even register the damage, Subject 21 continued to thrash, the jagged edges of his bones tearing through the flesh of the arm until it ripped itself free of the restraints, leaving his hand and wrist behind.

                Glowing blue liquid and bright crimson blood sprayed the room as the boy began to convulse, a thick white foam coating his lips and the sclera of his eyes darkening as blood vessels burst.  The silver haired child continued to stare in horror as the convulsions grew more violent for several long seconds, before a final shattered scream wrenched itself from the boy’s lips and he fell still.  The hand inside his guts clawed frantically at the skin wall holding it within for another heartbeat or two before it stilled as well.

                Unable to tear his gaze away from the horrific sight, not even aware of how badly he was shaking, the boy reached out a trembling hand and gently touched it, pressing his own hand against the one which was trapped.  Beneath the layer of skin, it felt so real.  He could feel bones, nails… it could close around his own fingers and he wouldn’t have been at all surprised. 

                “How did you get inside of him?”  He asked out loud, aware that the appendage couldn’t answer him, but in the habit of speaking his thoughts.  “Is there one inside of me too?”  As he spoke, he leaned back and pressed his hand against his own stomach, wondering of something inside him was going to reach out and make contact.    Was that why the cloaked men liked to cut him open?  Were they looking for another kid trapped inside?

                A strong heavy hand landed on his shoulder, pressing down firmly and preventing him from jumping.  Instinct guided his hands and the one holding the knife slashed upwards before he even realized he’d been touched, only to find it grabbed as well, trapped in a crushing grip.

                “You saw something you weren’t supposed to see.”  A smooth menacing voice whispered in the child’s ear, making him stiffen with dread, all thoughts of fight dissolving instantly into nothingness.  “And now… now you know what has to be done.”  It didn’t occur to him to beg or plead.  No mercy had ever been granted him before and its very concept had never been introduced to the boy.  Instead, he felt the knife fall from his trembling fingers and clatter loudly on the tabletop.  There was a terrifying finality to the sound and the boy wondered if he’d be joining Subject 21 on the dissection table tonight.

                Something sharp pricked him in the back of the neck and the world around him began to spin, growing dark around the edges of his vision.  Though he knew it was futile, he struggled against the growing weakness, wanting to hold onto the last few moments of his life more fiercely than he’d ever wanted anything before.  His last thought as he glanced down at the blurring corpse on the table was that the boys pretty eyes were now ruined, their once vibrant and haunting blue darkened and glazed in death.  Disappointment filled him as he was claimed by darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's a happy fic and yeah Dilandau is a full on card carrying psychopath in this story. I figure that the Dragonslayers oddly enough had a very humanizing effect on their sweet tempered captain seeing as how I don't picture the Madoushi as being overly tender caregivers. He's all sorts of messed up and even though he doesn't remember this incident, it (and several like it) still affect his psyche.


End file.
